


Fragments

by Junaril



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Enemies, Longing, Suicidal feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26408512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Junaril/pseuds/Junaril
Summary: Fragmented thoughts from the Master's POV.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Kudos: 9





	Fragments

**Author's Note:**

> just some drabbles i collected after watching the finale and had sitting in my notes. no thoughts head empty.

"Despite every Timelord dead, and despite every relevant memory about you being in the Matrix, the data might never be complete."

"You're wrong. Not every memory about me is in there. You're missing."

She might have spoken of his relevance to her. But to him it sounded like a threat.

* * *

She is always running. Running away. And he can't help but run after her.

* * *

She is the sun. And he is a mere planet among others gravitating around her.

Was he ever closer to the sun as he is now?

Perhaps he never was at all, perhaps he always had a predetermined orbit, and perhaps he was losing even that, drifting further and further away from her - only grazing her when he set himself a collision course.

Lonely then, and lonelier now.

She is the universe. She envelops him. A small piece of her is in him.

But he is nothing but a memory and a nuisance to the universe.

She was death. In a way she would never see. In a way he himself could not explain.

He had never wanted to die. But the thought of ... the end, of ending ... started to inundate him. He started to drown in it.

He started to want it, and he wanted _her_ to be it.

* * *

It was she who would always choose her own death to save everything, anything. And there she stood and lowered her hand.

And there he crumbled in the unmistakable reality that it was now _he_ who chose death, but for the mere reason of wanting an end - for himself.

* * *

"I contain multitudes", she said.

 _And I am bereft and empty_ , he thought.

He takes and takes but the abyss gnaws and gnaws. 

* * *

He breathed, hot air rushing out his nostrils, as he grew cold and his hearts grew heavy. "You're whimsical." (She looked at him. Her nostrils flared.) "Nothing can ever last with you." (She looked away.) "You evade anything that would last." (She kept him in the corner of her eye.) "You evade me." (Her eyelids sunk.) "You didn't previously - but not even that version of you could last." (She looked at him again.)

He trapped her gaze in his, and allowed himself this loud thought. _A tiny bit of you always changes, doesn't it, Doctor? I'm wondering what is being lost, what I would miss. I'm wondering - what would you miss of me?  
_


End file.
